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Saturday, December 12, 2015
8:36 AM
Eric LaCroix probably should have known better than to expect a peaceful day off.
It had all started off well enough. He'd woken up, made a cup of coffee at the Parkhurst, and gone on something of a constitutional. The snow had turned from white to gray with time spent in the city, but had melted away to traces, leaving a relatively beautiful and unobstructed - if damp - urban landscape. He'd gone out bundled up in his jacket, intent on catching an exhibition at one of the local galleries.
Then the police car had sped by. Followed by two more.
The part of him that wanted him to leave it to someone else was swiftly shouted down. He decided not to go in in costume, though - just yet. Instead, he followed the cars, which eventually came to rest outside a restored brownstone off of Lechmere. They joined an ambulance that had already arrived; in the back bay, a man in a courier's uniform was being tended to by two EMTs. Blood ran down his face from a cut over his eyebrow, and he was desperately trying to get a hold of his words.
"Door was open... I heard screaming... went in, and... things just started flying at me..."
Eric shook his head. He didn't think this place was haunted - at least, it hadn't been the last time he'd checked on it. Then again, that had been 6 months ago. The place had undergone some renovations. He opened his eyes to the pulse of the grave... and saw the house quivering with necromantic energy, veins of black running through its walls.
Great. He reached for his phone, placing a call to his associates. "Hey, yeah. We've got a house in Lantern Hill that wasn't haunted, and now is. And apparently, it doesn't like delivery boys."

GM
The Super Museum Midtown, Freedom City, New Jersey Saturday, October, 31st, 2015 8:30 PM
For many in Freedom City, Halloween was a time of relaxation. A day for those who didn't already don a mask on a nightly basic to put on a costume and get in on the fun. If you went to the right places the crowds were comparable to the zombie hordes sprawled on many a tv set. Malls, bars, and even museums offered special events and trick or treating opportunity. One such museum was the famous Super Museum in Midtown. Normally a super or two volunteered to pose for pictures following a documentary showing of a hero's known history. The Q&A session followed by grab bags of candy being handed out.
Unfortunately, for the Super Museum festivities were cut short. Before the building could be reopened it was discovered an artifact had been stolen. The artifact in question was known as the Horn of Taurus, and was notably not a replica. Due to the magical nature of the horn, it didn't take long for word to spread about its theft.

The OOC! To start off with the DuTempts Building crew are already at the ice rink with Kimber any everyone else can begin arriving! Nick, Equinox and Frost should all have a general idea of what Kimber's been working on since she'd have asked them for their professional opinions along the way. I'll leave it to each of you how complete a picture of the final goal you think they'd have. She'd have likewise let Temperance know she needed help with something involving Jotunheim and made a weak attempt to coach the whole thing in technobabble for Citizen's peace of mind. Papercut and Revenant may only know that Kimber asked for their help and that there's a non-zero chance that there's going to be some monster fighting involved. Kimber's friends from True North are stuck dealing with another Igneous (lava men) crisis, which Frost and Blue Fox would certainly know about, if it comes up.

July 11, 2015 Kimber finished etching the last rune into the surface of the ice with a telekinetically controlled chisel before floating a few meters into the air to survey her work critically. After the better part of two years of preparation and careful work she wasn't going to let the arcane ritual equivalent of a typo ruin everything now, especially now with so many of her friends on the way to help pull off her plan. Indira and Eve were already waiting on the bleachers on the other side of the plexiglass, the latter having been convinced to rent out the indoor ice rink for the day with only a minimum of pleading. Kimber had asked Tarva to head up to the announcer's booth so that she could double check the complex circles of inscribed sigils that made up the first step of the day's undertaking. Satisfied with the results, the poltergeist nodded and turned to her friends, hands on her hips. "Good to go! Just in time, too! Everybody should be getting here pretty soon!"

GM Post Calcutta, India 1892 AD "... which is why me and my Associates are very displeased with your policies in the Bengali province, Captain Ayres." The man in the red suit said. "We are invested in the proper development of the area, and quite frankly, your policies, appart from brutal, are in conflict with our interests." The man in the blue suit added. "Your objections are noted, gentlemen, I assure you. However, understand that I have to deal with a rebelion here, one incited by Korean spies who would sooner see India burn than have it prosper under Brittish rule. I've always acted on the behalf of the Company's interests, which I was given to understand were YOUR interests as well." Captain Ayres was very upset, but he held on. The men in the suits were hard to deal with, given that they always seemed to be wearing their expressions like a man wears a suit; fittingly, but it was obvious that the clothing was not an actual part of said man. "And that was why you chose to align yourself with Feng Huan Po?" "..." That had hit a nerve. Captain Ayres had taken the utmost of precautions to ensure that whatever dealings he had with Feng Huan Po remained under wraps. "Surely the governor-general isn't very appreciative of your alliance with a follower and representative of the Old Ways." "Feng Huan is... a necessary concession on our part. He ensures that the Chinese will keep to themselves, while also posing a significant threat to the Koreans from attempting an outright invasion." He tried to explain. The expressions of the two men warped, as they tried to imitate concern. "He is more dangerous than you realise, Captain. Feng Huan Po moves in circuitous ways, ensuring that his actions largely remain concealed from our eyes." "It is imperative for our plans that the people of Calcutta, and India in general, enjoy a secure, safe, and prosperous for them enviroment." "If you fail..." "... we will have to take action against you. Even if that means..." "... that the East India Company meets a premature end." "It is our hope that we have made ourselves clear." "If you think... IF YOU THINK THAT I WILL CAVE UNDER YOUR HOLLOW THRE-" "There is NOTHING hollow about our threats, Captain." "As your superiors no doubt have informed you, the Spanish once tried to dare us into action." "You ARE aware of the Battle of Gravelines, aren't you?" "Heed our words, Captain Ayres. You are walking a very thin line as it is." "Do not cross us." "..." The Captain remained further silent, as the two men took their leave. Their warning was clear as a day. However, the Captain remained undeterred in his resolve to proceed with his plans. "If the East India Company is the sacrifice needed to ensure 'our' future... then so be it." He silently mouthed. He knew that forcing the two men into action was tantamount to challenging god's wrath. So that was why... Present Day, Freedom City Tuesday, June 16th, 2015 Midday, 14:35 The tears closed as soon as they opened, and everything they enveloped vanished completely. Sometimes, other random stuff would emerge from those energy swirls. Not only where they fast, the tears appeared at random places, from the City's center to Parkside, from there to Hannover, then the Great Bay, Lincoln, Riverside, Ashton, and Southside. The tears would continuously open and close in each of these areas for approximately an hour, before moving on to another place. This had been going for the better part of the last day, with reports of similar phenomena accross the country. The superhero community were as stumped as the scientific one, about what was going on, much less its cause. Thankfully enough, though, the tears didn't seem to affect humans, so barring a few indirect injuries caused by the odd falling piano, there was very little cause for panic. The news made sure to keep updates of this peculiar phenomenon, keeping the citizens informed of the tears' current emergence location. Last sighted, they'd appeared in Kingston, while for the last 10 minutes, they seemed to start appearing over at West End.

Omni Parker Hotel, Boston, Massachusetts Friday, 5 June 2015 Noon The historic facade of the Omni Parker House overlooked the historic stone King’s Chapel and the historic green burying ground. It was a normal, busy day in the heart of Boston, and the hotel was busier than it usually was with men and women in neat suits filing into the entrance. In the middle of them were a few types that particularly stood out; like the man in the long saffron robes, or the woman in buckskins, or the man in a long cassock have a quiet, heated argument with a woman wearing a Catholic nun’s habit. The crowd flowed up the stairs and into the mezzanine spaces, congregating around the Isabella Stewart Gardner and the Harriet Beecher Stowe rooms. With its doors opened to the 23rd Interreligious Convention, the staff at Parker House were continuously updated to the different dietary requirements the speakers and registered attendees had indicated. The lunch they had laid out for the first day of the convention was blander than they usually strove for, but each steamer platter was still delicious (and had its ingredients cleared listed). Siobhan Drake found herself in line, staring at a starched wimple and waiting for her chance at the crab cakes. While she suffered in a non-smoking room, she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned, and saw a young man in an old man’s body smiling at her. He was her height, balding, slim, his wrinkled face pulled into a bright smile, and a vibrant energy burned from every pore of his body. “Professor Siobhan Drake? I must say, I very much enjoyed your paper about occultism in post-war Western countries.” He smiled broadly and rocked on his heels, evidently pleased with himself at pronouncing ‘Shiv-awn’ properly.

Rio Branco Avenue Rio de Janeiro, Brazil December 25th, 2014 5:25 PM local time Nick Cimitiere's jacket was tempered for heat and cold, meaning he didn't need to forgo protection - or mystique - based on the temperature. But the humidity of the Rio summer was still getting to him. The whole city was strung out for Christmas, but the tilt of the earth meant it felt more like the height of July back home. Speaking of back home... he'd told his family he'd be out of town for a few days, but would be back for Christmas. He always hated to lie to his family about these matters. Four years home from college, eight years as a superhero, and he still hadn't come clean about meddling in the affairs of life and death. But some matters of death were more important than matters of life. There had been a number of disappearances in Rio over the past few weeks. People from all walks of life had left messages for their family and friends, saying they were going to "a better place," and then had vanished entirely. Fortunatus, a local seer and fate manipulator who Nick had partnered with on a particularly tough job years ago, had given him a call about the matter. "The path is clouded to me," he had said. "I see that they are gone, but I cannot see where they have gone and who led them there. I fear this may be more your department than mine." "Anything else you can tell me?" "Just one thing. There are a number of 'great bumps' on the horizon." "Great bumps" was Fortunatus's term for a confluence of random factors that could spell either windfall or disaster. Nick had no idea where it came from. "I have one that I must handle myself, as it involves plucking the threads of chance like a harp. But I can see that these disappearances will not stop soon, and may breed a catastrophe of their own if unimpeded." And so, after spreading the word amongst the community and walking the back roads of reality, Nick had found himself walking a beat in paradise. Those who had gone seemed to be truly gone - after visiting their residences and the local cemeteries, he could find no trace of the vanished having left ghosts. Then again, he wasn't the only one on the beat. "How's it coming on your end?" he asked over the comms relics he'd handed out.

Out-of-character discussion and resolution thread, compatriot of thread where Babybrawler, Equinox and Foreshadow II deal with a little Dark Lord problem...
EDIT: Note that things can have plenty of slight, flavor differences between this and the 'real' Freedom City. For instance, the location of Parkhurst.

GM
An abandoned hotel on lantern Hill, Freedom City, Earth
2014, June 12th, 12.02 PM
It had started small, like most problems do. Something that caught the eye, but easily dismissed as a trick of the light, hazy memory, or the work of an over-active imagination. Then it got bigger, more clear, harder to ignore. Maybe window shivered like rubber, someone's faced changed in the flicker of a second, something you knew you'd seen, maybe you heard the asphalt speak to you. That was when the first suspicions arose.
Then Eldrich appeared, in full view of the public, warning the world about an encroaching, overpowering evil that needed to be destroyed He swore to uphold his duty as Master Mage and die, if necessary, to save all. Gathering a band of other heroes, he and they departed to battle the new threat. That was a month ago.
But the inklings didn't stop. They grew. They weren't frequent, and almost none could detect them, but those who beheld had no doubts any more that something was very wrong.
Now, three of bustling Freedom City's heroes have gathered in a secluded place, a broken-down old hotel on the far side of stately and severe Lantern Hill, to discuss their discoveries and determine what, if anything, can be done about this mystery,

GM
June 12th, 2014, 4.45 PM,
Half-Moon Summit Park, west Springsvale, Arizona
"Found it like this. Last week." said Jane Aqui as she climbed out of the truck, the middle-aged park ranger tilting her broad brown hat a little farther from her eyes, the better to squint at the ungainly, smelly heap in front of her. She'd kept a polite few feet from the new arrivals since first meeting them, the odd crew seeming to get a little more awe even than the usual outside the world's super-capital. Even the evidently taciturn Jane had dug a little deeper than the usual "Can you really do magic?" that seemed to come up every time they were recognized. Which admittedly had been twice.
Springsvale wasn't much. At the best of times, and especially when perched a few hundred feet above the valley the town stood in, it was compact and industrious, a collection of pale houses, a brightly-painted school and dark warehouses, offices and factories hugging miles of the scrub-rich eastern bank by a small, fast-running, very blue river, the town's dusty road running south to the I-15 highway only a few miles distant. A few bits of suburbia spilled away from the river, looking very much like fingers on some skeletal hand. Somewhere behind them, far out of sight past the hills, lurked the rugged Grand Canyon's eastern end. Far below, another truck pulled into town, one of dozens they'd seen since getting to Springsvale forty-seven minutes ago. Small ponds and rivlets spilled away from the main Springwater, but beside those distractions it ran as direct as compass point.
They weren't there for the sights, though. At least, not the natural, or man-made ones. They had been called here to deal with the giant snake lying in a dead, mouldering heap in front of them, surrounded by sickly-glowing runes. A small camp of white tents had sprung up in another clearing about 50 yards away, from Phoenix University judging by the emblem a few of the laughing, chatting twenty-somethings and dignified-looking elders sported, and the comically grand white-red flag.
The heat and wind hadn't been kind to the corpse, it was bleached enough to disguise whatever color it had been before, and was now a feeble yellow-brown. It was lying on its back, belly cut open and resting a gaping, sunken head on its coils. It was already sagging from decay. They had been able to smell it long before they saw it.
Ranger Aqui cleared her throat "Gathered you folks knew about this...kind of thing. Heard it from those kids who do that show about the town. It's not normally that strange. 'Least not giant-snake-strange." She turned her squint to the ghoulishly-painted necromancer, the robed witch, and the biker-looking woman with the stick "So..." her squint turned quizzically to the deceased serpentine object of their distress "...what's this mean?"

Wednesday, January 23rd 10:13 PM There was no reason the Levant Arms should have loomed the way it did. It wasn't even that tall - a mere five stories, and there were much taller buildings on this stretch of the West End. Likewise, the street was fairly well lit, and lights were on in most of the buildings surrounding it. But then, that just made the shadows inside loom that much taller. Nick took the building in, trying to get a more detailed read off of it. It had only been empty for the last few hours; there was no official word from the city, but so far, their opinions ran everywhere from "gas leak" to "undetermined event" - the usual code for "we don't know, but boy, is this weird." He'd heard rumors over the past few nights, from all over the city. Customers at the Black Petal whispering about the strange lights in closed-off rooms. Ghost hunting websites talking about strange wails. The ghosts themselves at Lantern Hill, speaking of an "overwhelming presence." He had been about ready to check it out tonight when all hell had broken loose. There was little word on what had happened, but a 911 call brought most of STAR down on the place, and the first response team had been quick to get all the tenants out. Nor was there any one solid account, with stories ranging from "phantom fire" to "I saw this horrible face looking at me in the mirror" to... "there was a unicorn in the elevator." He'd had to make sure he'd heard that one right. More than once, in fact. Nick checked his watch and kept his eyes firmly on the building. It probably wasn't the sort of place to go in alone. Fortunately, he wasn't going in alone.

April 26th, 2012 9:37 PM Down on the beaches, the crowds were pouring out. The people who wanted to celebrate the weekend one day early, the desperate, the young lovers. Given all things, Nick Cimitiere would rather be there - and he couldn't rule out that his business might take him there. But there were more pressing matters to attend to. The necromancer stalked through the back alleys of businesses and townhouses that served as connective tissue between the Boardwalk and Southside. Over the past few nights, there'd been a number of... "sightings" might be the best word. "Visions" if you believed, or "hallucinations" if you were a cynic. The witnesses, many of whom had had more than a few drinks, had described glowing, ephemeral beings moving through the neighborhood, either flying overhead or tearing through at great speed. One person, especially poetic under the influence, had described them as "more real than real." Nick might have written it off as fancy... if not for Angela Zilani. A local medium of some repute, Zilani had been found dead in her apartment, seemingly burnt to death. The funny part was, nothing else had caught fire. She'd been the only target of something using a very controlled burn. It was safe to say that if these beings were responsible, they really didn't have the best of intentions. It might have been folly to search all of the Boardwalk alone, looking for the first sign of phantom activity. Fortunately, Nick wasn't doing it alone. He pulled out a slate with three glyphs on it - representing his partners in the endeavor - and ran his fingers over the simple trinket, opening a line of communication. "Things are dead out here. And not in the exciting way. Anything on your end?"

Friday, October 28th 5:39 PM It was another quiet day at the Black Petal Cafe, and Eric LaCroix was pretty happy about that. It had actually been a rather quiet month - ever since the incident at the Parkhurst, it had been a good month of simple dealings with the restless dead and the occasional exorcism for flavor. Every so often there'd been an attempt at a robbery, or maybe the occasional cackling supervillain, but things had been pretty sedate on the heroing front. It was good to have some time to think on things and not have to deal with a major crisis. Of course, the Halloween weekend was starting up, and who knew what would come with that, but for now, it was time meant to savor. He was in the middle of preparing a double-shot caramel latte when something pinged the distance edge of his senses. Someone dead was in the coffee shop. He scanned the crowd - no one looked like parts of them were falling off, or even had the pallor of the recently deceased. There weren't any obvious ghosts, and a poltergeist likely would've made more noise by now. He filed it away in the back of his head, waiting for the time to go on dish-clearing duty to see if he could scope out the specter. He handed the latte off to the customer and took the register once more. "Welcome to the Black Petal," he said. "How may I help you today?"

September 24, 2011 11:15 PM Nick Cimitiere tended to the main hall of the Parkhurst. He knew full well the ghosts would've been happy to help, but he'd decided to give them the night off. They were back in their quarters, passing the time, while he waited for some sort of miracle. He took a look over the Parkhurst - it was still hard to believe that, six months ago, it was effectively abandoned. The ghosts had kept it in order, but it was still a husk, soaked through with the essence of tragedy. Now it had become a formidable center for magical thought. The workshops were fully functional, the dimensional portal hadn't yielded up anything hideous yet, and the scrying crystals mostly stayed on target. It was a tribute to what could happen if a bunch of like-minded mystics put their mind to something. He hoped tonight would have similar results. It had been four days since the Gorgon had appeared in the skies above Freedom, issuing its dread ultimatum. In the time since then, Freedom City had fallen into panic, and it had taken most of his strength for Nick not to follow with them. In his line of work, he was familiar with multiple apocalypse scenarios - molten steel drowning the earth to burn the wicked, giant wolves eating the sun, and other such cheery scenarios. For all of them, though, he'd never heard of the possibility of the earth ending in stone. Bet Frost is kicking himself for not thinking of that one, he thought to himself as he finished up preparations in the main hall. He'd borrowed a few pastries from the Black Petal's freezer; the rioting hadn't spread to Riverside yet, and the store had stayed open, wanting to remain loyal to its customers during the "brief emergency." That was the Freedom City way - stand defiant in the face of angry gods. It had worked against Omega, against the Grue, against Hades... He just had to hope it would work this time. He took his seat, and waited for the others to arrive.